


Little Boy Blue

by Maesonry



Series: Entity Reader [4]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Explained, Drama, Entity Reader AU, Gen, Light Angst, Mystery, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, The Entity Wants Friends, Thriller, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 04:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maesonry/pseuds/Maesonry
Summary: “She picked up her guitar and played, her fingers dancing across the fretboard. The music that she made this time was unlike her usual uplifting tunes, being much more melancholy, even dark. Still, something compelled her to continue, to finish the song...”Why did the Entity take Kate Denson?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No prior knowledge of the Entiry Reader AU is needed, aside from the fact that the Reader is the Entity.

It started when the music came.

The forests are your domain. Not every forest, but in the darkest forests, the quietest forests, the ones with branches like fingers and birch tree spiral eyes, those are where the line between worlds begins to blur. It is why the earliest humans spoke of monsters in shadows of oak, of friends venturing in and never coming out. 

Crows in those areas are abundant. It is not mere coincidence in that regard. And sometimes, you like the quiet. Nature is unique in a way that you occasionally enjoy, so you have the habit of listening in to the crows when nothing else is pressing for your attention. 

That is how you first hear the songs. It is not lying to say that you are surprised. The sound comes from close; a hollow, encircled by trees, the blasted remnants of rocks from many years ago. It is a place familiar enough to you, the memory briefly tickling the back of your mind, but you brush it aside for the moment. The crows fluff their wings and cock their heads and murmur indistinctly, as a human comes into view. 

The human, or perhaps _she_ , exists. She sits on a rock, in a fossilized shell of the past. She has paused for the moment, and is humming some things under her breath, as you tilt hundreds of crow heads and examine her. The human is young, but to you, all humans might as well still be children in your eyes. But, she is the young of the youngest, and here she is, not even a fourth of a great oak tree, sitting alone in a forest with some strange object held carefully in her hands. 

You narrow your eyes. What does she wield? But, you do not wonder for long. With the object in her hands, she creates sound. The sound is music. It is so much unlike the sounds of the forest, of the birds calling and the trees groaning, that at first you find it unpleasant. But you wait, and your patience rewards you again, as her music slowly weaves in with the sounds of nature. 

You realize that hours have passed by the time she stops. She looks up, and notices the crows, the possibly startling amount of crows that had landed while she played, and now watched her unblinkingly. She tilts her head and waves in a friendly manner, her brilliant bright hair bouncing in a flick of wind, then turns and begins to walk down the path, back to wherever she came, the object of music still in her hands. She hums as she goes. 

You watch her leave. You do not try to stop her, because she is nothing. She is not filled with potential, not in the way that you need. You feel a brief melancholy by the loss of her and her music, that you will not see nor hear her again, but that is the way of things. You smooth the emotion over and return to the Void, pulling in your hundreds of arms and clicking your jaw. 

You have work to do. You always have work to do. The Trials must go on, and so they go, and the human in the forest becomes just another memory to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been playing DbD a lot and like  
> My entire strat is called: hide good and do gens, use premonition, and as soon as premonition goes, sprint burst in opposite direction, repeat. I’m bad at palette loopin’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I too go deep into random forests to get inspiration  
> Haven’t been abducted by a glorified cryptid yet but  
> Here’s hoping

The music returns.

You do not notice at first. You are busy, and busy means dealing with the Trials, with the Survivors and the Killers. You’re listening to the sound of a bell clanging, idly watching over a sacrificial hook, when a crow lands on your shoulder. You turn, and it opens its mouth, a single, clear note playing forth. 

It is the music of the forest. Of the human from before. You never did forget her, and so you find yourself intrigued that she has returned. Duty comes first, however much you wish to satisfy your curiosity, so you wait for the last Survivor to be sent away, and for the Killer to disappear back to the Fields, and that is when you too take your leave. Back to the forest. 

There she is. The human is where she was before, still sitting in the hollow, surrounded by trees, the limbs curling inwards and the leaves fluttering. At your attention, more crows begin to land, until there are hundreds, all eyes pointed on the human. You recognize the object as a guitar, after time filled out your memory. But, time has also changed here, too.

The leaves are not the same gold you remember. They have become green, budding flowers on the ends. You can feel that there will be rain soon, and a hundred crows ruffle their wings absently. The human is different too. She is no longer small, no longer the youngest young that she had been. She has aged, and her hair is more bright than before, her grip on the guitar steadier, her playing more certain. She fills the forest with complex sounds that do not overpower, sings things that make even the crickets and the burs harmonize.

You stare at her. There is something about her, something else that has changed. It takes but a moment to realize what it is, and then you lean back, taking it in. She has potential. The potential. The potential of Survivor and Killer. Hers is a brilliant potential, one you know she did not have before. You can see a name on her guitar, engraved: Kate Denson. And you ponder, briefly, how she grew from nothing to everything. You wonder at how it happened, how you missed it, but she is still playing and smiling, so your answers will not come from her. 

That is fine. The forest is your domain, in the darkness and the cold, and you press invisible fingers against birch tree eyes, the spirals of black that stand vigilant across the forest. And, in return, they speak to you. They show you what they have seen, and they show you that this human, this Kate Denson, always came to this forest. Even after you left, she came back, and played, and grew. She spoke to the trees, and her lyrics and poems told stories she did not. The story of her potential, of her growth. 

And through it all, you can still hear her playing now, see through the eyes of crows as her fingers dance across strings. It had been the music that caught your attention the very first time, and now it has your attention once more. Something surprising, to you. You find yourself enjoying it.

And then, a little thought strikes you. Perhaps, nothing major. Something small. But it is insistent, and you know how these things go. It is how you encircled the man of nightmares, and how you plucked an old soldier from death’s door.  
It is the familiar feeling of an impulse. 

Your impulse says to take this human. She will make an excellent Survivor, of that there is no doubt, no one as hopeful as she perhaps might be. But, you know how this may end. You have taken humans, made them into Survivors on assumptions and beliefs, and come the passing of time, they decay. They become the Killer. And while it is your job to extract hope, it never makes you feel even less... shamed, maybe, than when you see what was once full of hope and purpose, transformed into one of death and despair.

You do not want to see the same repeated in this human. But, you know you have no choice. The decision of those with potential is already made, set in stone the moment they develop it, and the only choice you have is in their duty. 

You look at Kate Denson, as she plays. Her music now is not the same as before, the happy replaced by sad. It is as if she knows, somehow, that her fate comes to her, that her time in this world grows short. The leaves around her seem to shake, and the tree limbs seem to reach out, towards her, towards the source of the sounds. You listen for as long as you can, before you know you have spent your time up. 

A fog rolls in. The human doesn’t notice, nor does she notice tree limbs lengthen. Leaves disappear, the air becomes cold and shallow, as the forest comes alive, with you. The boughs of the tree come together, forming spindly arms, grasping down, towards Kate Denson and her songs. 

_That_ is when she notices. She tries to fight them, with stone or stick, but she does not get far. It is too late for her now. The limbs reach out, carefully coil around her legs, and then bring her up, to the ceiling. The guitar is dropped in surprise, and you absently catch it as well, sending it up to the roiling fog ceiling that claims Kate Denson.

There is silence. The noises of the forest do not return, the crickets quiet and the birds having long since fled. You do not wish to remain there, and so you don’t. You disappear back to the Void.

The music goes with you.


	3. Chapter 3

There is light. The warm, crackling glow of the campfire holds you at bay. You watch from the darkness of the forest, as the humans... as the Survivors crowd around the fire. It is safety. Safety from you.

You want to step forward, and something in you itches to join them, but you cannot. You know this. So you sit in the fog, the crows gathering around you. 

They notice the crows. At least, the most observant of them. But there is nothing they can do, and so the crows are ignored again. They turn back to the fire.

And the newest one is there. Kate Denson. You tilt your head, and hundreds of limbs move together, the branches of trees that grow and the fog that hisses. She is not scared. Not like before. Instead, you watch as you readied her guitar. It is almost the same as before, in the other forest, but this time she is with others. She is with company.

Kate Denson casts a look at the forest. You do not know if she can see you, but it feels as though she can. Then, she looks back to the fretboard of her guitar, and begins to play.

You want to go to them. You want to become friends, the way they easily smile at one another. You want...

But what you want is unimportant. 

You leave. The music stays. And the void takes you.


End file.
